


Frustrated: Merritt's (fanfic) Story

by choco_lieks_things



Category: Demon of the Underground (Webcomic)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Biting, Blow Jobs, Dom Samsid, Frustration, Gay Sex, Hand Jobs, Humor, Intense Orgasms, Intense Sex, Irritating friend, Kinbaku, Light BDSM, M/M, Military Kink, Multiple Orgasms, Nipple Play, Savage Pogo, Sinnamon Roll Merritt, needy bottom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-27
Updated: 2017-09-16
Packaged: 2018-11-05 12:22:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,885
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11013348
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/choco_lieks_things/pseuds/choco_lieks_things
Summary: The day after Pogo wins the Fighter's Tournament, Merritt is still tasked with keeping him safe. Merritt is frustrated by this because not only is he kept from doing what he specializes in -tactics- but his charge doesn't seem to understand personal boundaries. After an especially bad day of trying to avoid Pogo's perverse proclamations, is it possible that fortune will finally turn in Merritt's favor and allow him to release some steam? (Probably not, because it's Merritt.) But maybe you should read this anyway. ;)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I do not own any characters, content, or ideas from Demon of the Underground. This is a fan-created work written for amusement purposes and I do not gain anything of monetary value from it. 
> 
> I would also like to state that I think Demon of the Underground is super amazing and if you are somehow reading this fanfic without knowing what it is, you really need to check it out. http://www.demonoftheunderground.com/ ^_^

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Merritt is on Pogo detail and Pogo is being...well, Pogo.

       “So…Merritt? Top or bottom?"

The mouthful of fish stew that the strategist was trying to swallow went into his windpipe causing him to fill the dining hall with a fit of coughing.

Merritt was still fairly new to The Underground’s East Sphere and, while most of his comrades had come to accept him, he was still trying to gain the trust of his leader, King Jasper Samsid. This left him in the current predicament of essentially babysitting an eccentric former surface-dweller instead of doing work that actually catered to his expertise.

Once he recovered and the rest of the fighters around him went back to their lunches, Merritt took a sip of his somewhat metallic-flavored water to soothe his throat. He decided it was best to not acknowledge that slight, brown-haired teen he was ‘guarding’ had said anything.

Pogo continued his line of questioning anyway, “I just…uh…heard that you like to be dominated and I was wondering if you liked taking it or if you enjoyed it when someone else topped from the bottom.”

Fortunately, Merritt was slightly more prepared for the onslaught and was able to finish his sip without incident. However he wasn’t prepared enough to stop the blush from crawling up his cheeks and ears to clash with his spiky, blond hair.

Pogo’s shrewd gaze lit up against the twin bruises he’d received in yesterday’s events as he noticed the change in Merritt’s coloring. He proceeded to utilize the tactician’s momentary crack in composure, “Oh my god, the rumors are true! Is there someone that you’d like to be dominated by?” His smirk evolved into a full shit-eating grin.

Merritt closed his eyes, took a breath and let tension flow out of his battle gear clad shoulders as he exhaled. He opened his eyes again and stared into Pogo’s still twinkling brown ones.

“Pogo, I’m not talking to you about my sexual preferences,” He said evenly, perfect poker face intact.

“Hmmm,” Pogo continued, ignoring Merritt’s stated disinterest and bringing a slender finger to his lips in thought, “What about Jackal? Sure he looks kinda seedy, but I bet he’s a beast in the sheets!”

Merritt stared down at his under seasoned meal and tried to focus on anything else but Pogo’s inappropriately perky voice.

“Or…I dunno I always kinda wondered was Littlehands would be like if he was seriously interested in someone. I bet he would be gentle.”

Merritt’s eyebrows knitted together as he began vehemently trying to remember lyrics from a new song he had downloaded on to his phone last week.

The hand that was previously resting on his face moved to play with his earring as Pogo spoke, “Then there’s Jordana, but you aren’t into ladies, are you? I think she would be AMAZING with some bondage toys, but she’d probably punch me if she heard me say that.”

Pogo sighed and looked out across the dining hall to the moderately dingy windows and spotted a hulking man with a platinum crew cut passing by, “Then there’s Troy, but he’s kind of a dick. And I’m not exactly sure how I feel about his eyebrows, or lack of them. Do you know if he shaves them? Or are they just super blonde and barely existent? Eh, I probably wouldn’t be questioning his eyebrow choices if he wasn’t so cranky in the first place.”

Merritt smiled internally at this, sharing the sentiment that Troy, indeed was, a dick.

“OH,” Pogo slapped his palms down on the steel table, “What about Sammy? That. Man. Is. So. Fine. I know he’s King and all, so like, probably not gonna happen cause he seems super guarded, but can you imagine? Oh man, I’d love to pushed up against a table and taken by him. Dude, I’d even call him ‘King’ if he wanted! Oh and I bet he’s big…”

Pogo’s barrage of praise was suddenly interrupted when Merritt choked on his lunch again. In an attempt to help his friend, Pogo firmly swatted at Merritt’s back a few times before Merritt slapped the elaborate, buckle-dressed arm away. Pogo resorted to awkwardly sitting still for a minute as Merritt coughed his lungs free once more.

“Come on, man. I already said I didn’t want to talk about it,” Merritt begged, changing his tactic and hoping for sympathy.

“Ok, but just so you know, I actually have some experience in BDSM. If you’re ever interested, I could totally top ya,” Pogo said, finishing his statement with a charismatic wink.

Merritt shook his head, both to decline and also to try to expel the mental image of Pogo having anything to do with bondage.

Taking the refusal in stride, Pogo plunged into another topic, “Oh and do you know what Kinbaku is? I’ve never tried it before but it looks like a lot of fun.”

“No, Pogo,” Merritt’s tone now held a level of threat to it. Merritt was sure whatever it was that Pogo was presently excited about wouldn’t be ‘a lot of fun’ to him.

“There’s actually a pretty decent forum for it here on one of The Underground sites, let me show you,” Pogo exclaimed, whipping out his phone and tapping animatedly until he pulled up the page. “Here, look,” he continued, practically shoving the screen into Merritt’s face.

Merritt tried not to look, but he found himself staring at an image gallery anyway. At first he wasn’t sure what he was looking at, all the images looked like odd mosaics, but instead of grout separating the positive space, it was knots and rope. He squinted to try to further figure out what was going on and instantly regretted it. They were bodies, naked bodies, carefully wrapped and tied intricately in various patterns with ropes.

“Aren’t they beautiful,” Pogo mused wistfully.

Quelling his rage at Pogo’s inability to focus on anything other than sex, Merritt stood up and began to scan the dinner hall.

Choosing his rescuer, Merritt walk two tables away, “Littlehands, you’re in charge of making sure Pogo doesn’t die over the next forty-five minutes.”

“Sure thing, Merritt,” the bald, brawny man replied amicably, picking up his lunch tray. Littlehands then strolled away to sit by a slightly confused looking Pogo.

Satisfied with his delegation, Merritt made a beeline for the room’s exit. While he would probably regret not having finished his lunch later in the afternoon, repercussions of punching Pogo in the face and adding to the already black-and-blue visage would have been worse. Merritt actually found himself smiling at the thought of almost an hour of Pogo-free time as he walked into the less stagnant underground air.

 

      Just as he was about to enter the barracks, a finely muscled man with dreadlocks turned the corner around the building and made eye contact with him. Merritt cursed himself for not better predicting his king’s whereabouts.

“Merritt,” Samsid’s seemingly ever-present scowl deepened, “Where’s Pogo.”

“With Littlehands, King,” Merritt answered hoping to pull off whatever it was that would diffuse the man’s wrath this time.

“Ensuring Pogo’s safety is not Littlehands’s assignment.”

This wasn’t going well.

“Pogo was being… Pogo and I saw it more… beneficial to his health that I was able to have a brief break, King,” Merritt said carefully, aiming for sympathy for the second time today.

Samsid’s eyebrows drew closer for a moment before a slight look of defeat settled in his striking green eyes, “I expect you to be with him again, running more combat drills, immediately after lunch.”

“Understood, King,” Merritt replied, instantly concluding that Samsid had been told about the antics Pogo had performed on the box of donuts left in Headquarters yesterday.

 

       After spending some time in the barracks with one of his textbooks, Merritt felt significantly less agitated when he returned to retrieve Pogo. Since the teen had managed to win the Fighter’s Tournament by a supposed fluke alone, actually having him work alongside the fighters would be problematic at best until he had some self-defense training. No one was really expecting for him to be able to hold his own on missions or understood why Samsid had allowed Pogo to stay with the top tier fighters as his assistant, but here he was. The least that could be done was to train him enough so that he didn’t get in the way.

The rest of the afternoon was spent going over possible close-range attack scenarios and how Pogo could best respond in each situation. Truthfully, Pogo wasn’t the worst student, but his perverse commentary and complete lack of physical strength didn’t make the lessons any less tedious for Merritt. By the time dinner rolled around, Merritt was dejected, tired, and ravenous from not eating enough over lunch. Luckily Pogo finally picked up on Merritt’s disposition by the end of practice and remained more subdued through the rest of the evening.

When they returned to their sleeping quarters for the night, Merritt refrained from his nightly online data gathering routine and opted to go directly to bed-or rather, pile of thin blankets that were intended as temporary sleeping arrangements for Pogo.

Merritt had been on the floor since Pogo’s first night with the soldiers, when the goofball had the audacity to try to join Merritt in his cot. Strategically, it made more sense for Merritt to take the path of least resistance and just use the bedroll as opposed to waking up every night to kick Pogo out like a strange, pervy toddler or passive aggressively hold his ground on an already small mattress.

There was also a part of him that felt sorry for the kid. It was doubtful that Pogo would ever be able to return to the life he was used to on the surface, and the bizarre bleeding tattoo on his back was concerning to say the least. Sure, he was kind of a creepy wimp who couldn’t hold an appropriate conversation to save his life, but Merritt couldn’t fathom Pogo deserving whatever the Underground had in store for him. Though, the same was true for many citizens of the Underground.

Regardless of his position on the hard floor and his worries for Pogo’s well being notwithstanding, it had been a long day and Merritt had little difficulty falling asleep that evening. He was unconscious even before the last of the fighters returned to the barracks that night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! I hope you enjoyed the first chapter! I have about twice the amount of this drafted for the rest of the fic. And it gets...um...dirty, heh! >.< I'm kind of a weenie about posting, so I'm sorry if I don't leave this up. But I'm feeling pretty ok about this right now, so I think the chances are pretty good. Thanks for reading! ^_^


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jasper Samsid deems it necessary to provide Merritt with some supplemental 'conditioning.'

       Merritt willed himself to sit up after disabling the alarm on his phone he set an hour earlier than usual. His body felt heavy as he got up, undressed, and grabbed his towel. He almost wished he had decided to take a sleep enhancer before going to bed last night, but ever since being released from that damn rat-ridden cell, drugs that could make him twitchy to begin with had lost their appeal.

He headed for the showers, convincing himself that spending an hour by himself before everyone else woke up would put him in a better mindset to manage Pogo detail today. He’d probably even be able to review a couple of chapters ‘Science & Strategies’ text that his friend, Archer, had managed to retrieve for him from the North Sphere a month previously.

Merritt allowed himself an indulgently warm shower, presently not giving any fucks if there would be enough hot water reserved when it came to be Pogo’s turn to wash. Pogo was typically woken up after everyone else because no one was really interested in occupying the same space with him while nude.

As Merritt returned to the shelves containing his things built in the wall next to his occupied bed, he noticed a notification light blinking on his phone. Wondering who was up at this ungodly hour, Merritt reached over and unlocked the gadget to see what correspondence he had received.

It was from Samsid, “Meet me in the briefing room at HQ immediately. -JS”

Merritt’s mind whirled as he rushed to get dressed. If he was in trouble, the briefing room was an oddly specific choice of location to reprimand him in. Was he needed in the East Sphere Headquarters for something that actually needed his tactical expertise? Was he finally going to be taken off Pogo duty? Merritt was somewhat afraid to let himself hope.

 

       The drive to HQ went swiftly in the early hours of the day, though traffic wasn’t usually a problem as the vast majority of vehicles in The Underground were motorcycles. Still, Merritt arrived at the doors to the briefing room in record time.

Merritt took a moment outside of the meeting room to force a few deliberate breaths and calm his underlying excitement at the possibility of being assigned a task that wasn’t busywork.

Collected, he reached for one of the handles to the doors sitting in an ornately carved wooden frame. “You requested my presence, King,” Merritt began walking over the threshold and into the room with a few rarely used chairs and an equally unused meeting table in the center. East Sphere soldiers weren’t really the type to sit down and take detailed notes over briefing sessions. The room also featured an outdated projector system, and some maps of various regions of the underground lining the walls.

“Yes. Get in here, Merritt,” Samsid said, not giving anything away with his tone. Though some of his usual belts and tool packs laid discarded on a chair in the far corner of the room, he looked awake and alert. It as if he had planned this meeting last night and had allowed himself enough time to rest and get ready for the day beforehand.

Merritt closed the door behind him and walked around the side of the large, blonde wood table to stand on the same side as his king.

“Can you describe your current ongoing assignment to me, Officer?” Samsid’s features tightened to reveal his incredulity.

So much for his aspiration of performing strategic work for the East Sphere. “I am to make sure that Pogo is kept away from harm,” Merritt stated, forcing his own face to stay blank.

“So, can you explain how you plan to accomplish that if you are not with him,” Samsid questioned, crossing his powerful arms and cocking his head to the side.

“King?” Merritt was at a loss. Was he angry that he had left Pogo with his general and other officers? Was he wrong in assuming that he was supposed to meet with his king alone?

“Where is he now,” Samsid asked, confirming Merritt’s speculations.

“He is in the barracks, King,” Merritt answered in a level tone despite the fact that his pulse was starting to climb, “I woke Jordana before leaving to make sure that Pogo would be looked after. I apologize if I incorrectly concluded that I was supposed to meet you alone.” Merritt mentally raged at the trap he’d been placed in. Regardless of the fact that he was allegedly Samsid’s top ranking officer, the man perpetually treated him like traitor.

“I didn’t assign Littlehands to keep Pogo safe and I know I didn’t assign Jordana either! Is watching after one, little idiot too much for you?” Samsid’s emerald eyes were blazing as he stepped ominously into Merritt’s personal space.

“…I won’t let it happen again, King,” Merritt replied, gritting his teeth.

“Even with the months spent in Troy’s care, you still can’t follow my orders.”

Merritt unconsciously flinched and his heart began hammering as he forced himself not to think about Troy and his tools of torture. “King, I am sorry,” he managed, still trying to maintain his calm façade.

“I’m going to have to condition you myself this time.” Samsid only had half an inch in height over Merritt, but his king’s immense, solid physique was still intimidating this close.

Words uncharacteristically tumbled from Merritt’s mouth, as he struggled to keep his breathing in check. “Please, I’m sorry. I promise not to let Pogo out of my sight, King. I do not need further conditio-”

“Shut up. Get down on your knees,” Samsid interrupted, his voice commanding but no longer heated.

Merritt cautiously lowered down to his knees, backing up and reestablishing the gap between them as he went. He was positive that his king was about to pull out one of his knives or another instrument that would undoubtedly be more distressing. Once he was seated on the wood-planked floor, his gaze rose back to witness the traces of a smirk turning the corners of Samsid’s mouth.

“If you're so hell bent on doing what I say, prove your commitment to your King,” Samsid said coolly. His thick fingers moved south and started to play at his belt buckle, unfastening it as he walked.

“wha…” The panic that had been mounting in Merritt’s core stuttered as his mind tried to make sense of the fact that Samsid was not unsheathing a blade, but perhaps something else.

“Come on, Merritt. I know you aren’t an idiot,” his king continued, concurrently towering over the blond strategist and working at the enclosure of his pants.

“oh, ”Merritt said lamely, feeling his face burn as he came to full comprehension of the way he was going to be ‘conditioned.’

This was not Merritt’s first time on his knees before another man; in fact, this wasn’t even the first situation in which he was involved with someone highly ranked in a sphere. He had always been fairly oblivious to others’ advances, but with his experience in recent years, he believed that had started to become more observant of such behaviors. Yet, here he was kneeling before his king, blushing and stammering like a goddamn virgin.

Samsid’s hands had stopped moving and now rested by his thighs. A brief look of curiosity passed over his king’s face before the features turned impatient. “Well,” he prompted.

“Yes, King.”

Once again ready to fulfill orders, Merritt’s hands dived into the opening of Samsid’s trousers to graze past a velvety gathering of hair and find his half-hard, yet still substantial member. Merritt’s cheeks were boiling as he gave the first few tentative pumps. He stole a glance upward to catch Samsid take a steadying breath and allow his eyelids to fall shut.

Merritt briefly wondered how long it had been since Samsid was last intimate with someone as he brought the head to his lips. He orbited his tongue, teasing the base before taking his king into his mouth. A soft, low groan rumbled in Samsid’s throat eliciting attention from Merritt’s own member. As he continued to glide his mouth and tongue, Samsid’s mass grew to a cumbersome proportion, causing Merritt to fall back some and resort to providing diligent suction to the glans.

“Mmmhh…yes,” Samsid’s voice was thick and almost feral as his hands dropped to Merritt’s shoulders. His fingers dug ever so slightly into the padded gear Merritt was wearing, not holding him down, but providing enough pressure to incite further arousal from the officer.

Merritt resumed stroking Samsid’s shaft with his hands as he moved his tongue across the apex. Salt registered against his taste buds as he continued striking to provide more evidence to support that he was doing well.

The force of Samsid’s grip had intensified considerably, causing the straps to slip down Merritt’s arms. “Fuck. Merritt,” Samsid said quickly, readjusting his grip to once again find purchase on Merritt’s shoulders.

Merritt continued his actions, even more motivated by the need in his king’s tone and firm heat from his hands radiating through the thin layer of his collared tank. He moved faster, aware of Samsid’s increased rate of breaths and feeling a hot pressure coiling inside himself. Barely able to control his own lungs, Merritt dived down on Samsid trying with some difficulty to keep his teeth away. He drew back, sucking mercilessly as Samsid’s taste became more potent.

To his dismay, the hands on his shoulders abruptly pushed him away before he could complete his task, causing him to topple backward unceremoniously on the floor.

Shocked, Merritt looked up at his king to find the darkened, virescent gaze trained on him as Samsid forced himself to regain normal breathing. For a quick moment, Merritt wondered what he could have possibly done wrong now.

Before his thoughts could spiral much further, Samsid spoke in almost a growl, “Enough.” He strode into Merritt’s space and loomed over to clasp his hands around the blond’s upper arms. Samsid proceeded to hoist Merritt back to his feet with dizzying speed, maintaining his dynamic stare. “Get undressed.”

Whatever excited momentum Merritt had just lost in confusion was instantly reignited with that order. His pulse hammered in his ears as his fingers gracelessly scrabbled to unbuckle the numerous weapons and poisons pouches on his person.

Samsid turned and walked away to fish though his own supplies still sitting on the chair in the corner. He retrieved a small plastic bottle and placed it on the central table as Merritt’s belts thudded to the floor one by one. Samsid had returned to stand in front of Merritt when he was finally undoing the fastenings on his shirt. Samsid’s eyes trailed along Merritt’s still clothed form appreciatively before he closed the gap between them, colliding their lips together and thoroughly disrupting Merritt’s process.

Merritt was surprised to find that Samsid had somehow managed to take a vast amount of ground through the course of this meeting. Samsid’s charge caused his back to swiftly meet the cool wall next to the door he entered through.

The kiss started out firm, but shallow, with Samsid succinctly picking up where Merritt had left off, sliding the tank off of his shoulders. Merritt unconsciously moaned into the caress as powerful fingers brought the clothing down his arms, leaving goose bumps in their wake, and then reached lower to the button on his pants.

Samsid angled sideways, lightly scratching Merritt’s face with his goatee, and plunged his tongue into him, presently unzipping Merritt to freedom. With the pressure between Samsid’s embrace and the wall, Merritt was sure his spiked hair was now a horrid mess, but the next movement of his king’s hand diving into the waistband of his boxers halted any additional thoughts of his hairstyle.

Samsid pulled back a modicum to softly bite at Merritt’s lower lip as his fingers deftly encircled his base. The sudden, magnificent contact caused Merritt’s eyes to roll skyward as a throaty groan spilled from his mouth. Samsid gave a low, smooth chuckle before returning to a domineering kiss and establishing a rhythm around Merritt’s sex.

Soon, Samsid’s other hand shifted along the planes of Merritt’s abdomen before landing to tease an already erect nipple. Merritt borderline whined at the new, extra amount of stimulation only to be quieted by Samsid’s skillful tongue raiding inside of him.

Merritt felt the telling pressure building behind his navel again as Samsid broke their kiss to lap down the side of his jaw and bite at the joining of Merritt’s neck and shoulder.

Through the haze in his head, Merritt had a brief, vague thought about how grim this situation could be if he was any less willing to obey his king’s instructions. How he was currently trapped between a hard, unyielding surface and a person of power who had the ultimate say in his future. But the truth was that he absolutely reveled in it.

His heart thundered animatedly behind his ribs at the sensation of Samsid’s encompassing heat fraying at what composure he had left. The overwhelming stimulation from his king’s mouth, hands, and body had rendered Merritt’s limbs useless to conduct any ministrations of their own. His breathing teetered on hyperventilation as Samsid moved from the new mark on his neck to his neglected nipple, quickly biting down and simultaneously gave his member a percussive tug. Merritt cried out as the cacophony of pleasure and pain threatened to take his very sanity.

Samsid swooped up and muffled the cry with another consuming kiss, releasing Merritt’s more sensitive parts to grab his wrists and securely pin them to the wall on either side of his head. Merritt released a broken groan preemptively and his king ground his hips forward uniting their arousals. The profound pressure inside Merritt was nearly unbearable as little lights began to prickle in his vision due to ill timed exhales.

Samsid then rocked his hips into Merritt’s, and just the final, slight amount of friction caused him to cascade over the edge into orgasm. Merritt wrenched his head free and screamed as he spilled between them.

The two shared breathing space for a brief interval as the stars faded out of Merritt’s sight.

“Shit, Merritt, I knew you were wound up tight, but damn,” Samsid said huskily and gave a deep laugh as he released Merritt’s arms, “I’m not done with you yet, though.”

“Yes, King,” Merritt said hoarsely, his chest still heaving.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay, I posted the chapter! It might still need some tweaking but it's up. I'm kinda hesitant to have this chapter posted without having the final chapter to follow, so we'll see how long I leave it up. :-D Gah, I'm such a dork. But anyway, thanks for reading and I hope you enjoyed. ^_^


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Samsid's aforementioned conditioning continues is a delicious manner until something happens that Merritt is completely unprepared for.
> 
> [Ummm...Also I've kinda been editing the whole fic over the past couple of months (mostly for grammar, but some description and a tone has changed a bit too.) If you last read the previous chapters a while ago, you might want to read them again. But it's nothing too major.]

       The amount of recuperation time Samsid allowed Merritt proved to be minuscule. His king’s commanding hands went directly for Merritt’s shoulders, pulling him away from the knockdown textured wall the tactician had been all but plastered to. Samsid then maneuvered so that he stood behind Merritt and so that he could slide his arms around his trunk. Pressed together like that with Samsid’s hot presence blanketing him, Merritt could feel just how excited his king remained.

Warm exhales grazed Merritt’s left ear as Samsid began walking them closer to the conference table. Once they had come to the edge of the neglected piece of furniture, Samsid’s grip slid from around Merritt’s waist with one hand moving to clutch the sensitive skin at his hip and the other to the taut muscle where his neck met his shoulder. “This is a lot of fun; I’m sorry we didn’t try this sooner,” the smooth baritone of Samsid’s voice caused Merritt’s heart rate to increase a bit.

Samsid’s grasp then changed from holding Merritt close to manipulating him to bend over the cool surface in front of them, suggestively pressing his hips into the curve of his subject’s ass before walking away entirely. Merritt heard a soft rumbling laugh as he saw his king’s hand grab the small bottle that was pulled out earlier.

“Lose the pants and spread your legs, Officer.”

“Yes, King,” Merritt quickly stood up a bit and pulled down his already undone pants, struggling to free them from his now-entirely-too-complicated shin guards. He resorted to sitting down on the floor, removing his shoes, and unwrapping the damned things completely so that he could finally remove his pants. When he was undressing for bed, it took all of about thirty seconds to remove his lower garments. Of course it would be now in front of his king, that he would be fumbling with them like a huge dork.

“Your underwear too, Merritt,” Samsid said, tone clearly impatient.

Conclusively liberated from his pants, shoes, and guards; Merritt’s boxers were swift to be discarded in the pile on the floor with the rest. Samsid walked to stand close behind him and rested his hand on the small of his back.

“Tell me, Officer Merritt, do you want this,” Samsid asked in a tone that held promise. His lips were so close to Merritt’s ear as his hand slid up his back to firmly grasp Merritt’s shoulder.

Merritt only shuddered as desire sparked his arousal again.

“Merritt?”

“Yes, King, I do,” Merritt said a bit too eagerly.

Suddenly the hand on Merritt’s shoulder forced him back down to bend over the table with brutal force. Merritt was fortunate enough to reflexively catch himself on his forearms and avoid smacking his head into the surface.

The next sound he heard was what must have been the cap from the bottle that Samsid had brought out earlier being popped open and the contents being squeezed out. Merritt sucked in a breath in anticipation as one of Samsid’s hands returned to him, wandering down his backside before grabbing his left cheek and pulling it aside. Wet fingers started to tease around his opening, liberally coating the area. A small shiver shook Merritt’s hamstrings and core as he processed the cool sensation of the lubricant.

The taunt of Samsid’s actions came to an abrupt end and turned genuine when a finger suddenly plunged inside of Merritt. Despite the preceding endeavors, the act still burned significantly with little warning and Merritt had to force himself to breathe and relax until the discomfort passed.

Once it became obvious that Merritt was ready to continue, Samsid began to slowly dip in and out of him with no apparent agenda as silken laugh rumbled from his king’s throat. Merritt’s posture slackened some and he rested his chest and head on the blonde wood below him as he luxuriated in the massaging strokes.

Just when Merritt was resigned to the low intensity of the ministrations, Samsid brought more lube and another finger. This time, instead of sustaining his previously languid pace, he immediately curled his fingers into the cluster of sensitive nerves that comprised Merritt’s prostate, which caused him to contract around Samsid and gasp harshly. This also had the strategist wholly erect once more.

“Yeah, Merritt?” Samsid said with another low laugh.

After moving in and out for while longer, he added a third finger. The burn returned and again Merritt had to will himself to become less tense. He was successfully loosening around Samsid’s persistent incursions until those adept fingers bent forward into him once more, bringing out a low groan from Merritt as he tightened.

Samsid alternated between finger fucking and striking his prostate for a spell, stirring up moans and small tremors from Merritt as he dived deeper. There was a warm, tingling tension coalescing in Merritt’s groin signaling that he was approaching another orgasm. Probable moments before eruption, the onslaught ceased, and Samsid withdrew from the shaking mess.

“Unnh, King!” Merritt couldn’t stop himself from complaining at the loss of the sensation.

“Wait a damn second,” Samsid said as he slathered himself in lubricant.

Merritt breathed through his need as Samsid lined himself up behind him. Samsid began to press at Merritt’s entrance and his hand dropped to Merritt’s hip to give him a firm squeeze before slamming into him.

“Agghhh!” Merritt cried.

“Mmnnhh, man, I prepped you good. How are you still this tight?” Samsid groused, not too dissatisfied.

Merritt concentrated on even exhales as searing pain briefly racked through him and the beginnings of tears formed in his eyes.

Samsid bent over to envelop Merritt, merging his body heat with his officer’s as his bare chest joined Merritt’s naked back. Merritt’s form melted and adjusted to the intrusion as a wave of contentment from the mild restraint rolled over him. Samsid dragged his lips and chin along the top of Merritt’s spine as he waited, sheathed inside of him. The last of Merritt’s tautness dissipated when his king gently bit down on the back of his neck and continued to foster an additional mark on his pale flesh.

After the sting had subsided, Merritt was keen and yearning for more. The tactician began to tilt his hips up into Samsid to initiate movement.

Samsid laughed huskily, “Ahhh, so now we’re ready?”

“Yes, King.”

With that, Samsid rose back up to cage Merritt on the table between his palms and lazily retreated about halfway. He then slid back in agonizingly slow, and carried on at this frustrating speed, or lack thereof, for several more thrusts.

Merritt could feel a cloying tightness mounting inside him again, but desperately needed more.

“King,” he said breathily.

“Mmmm, yes, Officer,” came Samsid’s now gravelly voice.

“Nnnghh, harder,” Merritt managed, his charge of his respiration and pulse slipping away from him once more.

Samsid subsequently crashed into Merritt, driving in to the hilt and raking against Merritt’s prostate along the way.

“AHhhhh, yes!”

Samsid pulled back and barreled in again in the same fashion.

“Mhng…Yes, what, Officer?”

“Yes! Ah, King!”

Samsid continued laying into Merritt with punishing strikes, picking up speed as he continued. With his total loss of control of his body and lungs, the lights from earlier returned to dance in Merritt’s vision. He gasped and hiccupped as the weight of his second release loomed over him.

“Agghh…ungh…King…uhng,” Merritt’s cries were high-pitched and breathless.

“Mmmnggh…Damn…Fuck…Merritt.” By the cadence of Samsid’s staccato murmurs, Merritt could ascertain that his King was close too.

Merritt’s stomach had climbed into his throat in exhilaration and he was almost positive he was going to lose consciousness when Samsid brutally drilled inside him one final time, throwing him into rapture. The strategist’s resulting scream could likely be heard from the HQ’s surrounding buildings as Merritt was rendered blind and his knees buckled under him. Samsid moved to catch Merritt’s hips with crushing strength as he surged hard into Merritt and Merritt volleyed over the edge of the conference table.

They remained united as they collected their breath and Merritt’s vision was restored. Merritt allowed his blissed-out mind to escape him for a brief time, not bothering to try to divine what this hook-up could mean in the future.

“Heh, I kinda thought you might be a screamer,” Samsid said, giving Merritt’s ass a small swat as he pulled out and fell back to start making himself presentable.

Merritt somehow managed to blush again as he stood and clumsily went to gather his own clothes.

“That was a lot of fun, Merritt. I can tell that you enjoy being dominated. Maybe sometime we could try Kinbaku,” Samsid’s tone shifted from smooth and seductive to practically jovial.

“What?” Something was odd about Samsid’s declaration, but Merritt’s faculties were still too sluggish to determine why.

“You know, that Japanese rope tying thing?”

Something was definitely wrong.

“Wait…wha…” Merritt spun around to look at Samsid.

Instead of Samsid, Merritt found Pogo decked out in a silver-studded, black, leather bodysuit and matching black cap. The ensemble was complete with a roll of silken black rope, grasped in his slender fingers.

“But if not, that’s cool too. I mean there is just tons of stuff we can try without actually tying you up!” Pogo said cheerfully, shit-eating grin in full effect.

 

 

       Merritt awoke with an actual scream that jolted most of his fellow fighters sharing the room from sleep as well.

Littlehands remained slumbering as both Troy and Jackal exclaimed something along the lines of, “What the fuck, Merritt,” before attempting to return to sleep.

Both Pogo and Jordana stirred long enough to rise from bed and assess Merritt’s outcry.

“Are you ok? Was it a nightmare,” Pogo asked groggily as he rubbed at the corners of his eyes and wandered toward Merritt’s bedroll.

Still caught up in the ordeal of his dream, Pogo was the last person Merritt wished to interact with, “Gaahhhh, I hate you so much right now!” Merritt’s blood burned hot from a fusion of lingering arousal, embarrassment, and extreme frustration.

“Dude, that’s not very nice,” Pogo said, plainly crestfallen.

Fortunately, Jordana was able to read the mood enough to pull Pogo away.

“Come on Pogo, it’s too early to be starting shit,” the lean explosions expert stated wearily, dragging Pogo back to his commandeered cot and allowing Merritt to seize the opportunity to retreat and clean up in the showers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ack! I DID THE THING! I finished it!!! Thanks for reading! Did you laugh? Did you enjoy? I hope at the very least you giggled.
> 
> And I don't know that I will ever write another fic again...I'm not that strong of a writer and I got entirely too meticulous, editing my work to ribbons, trying to get things to possibly be canon. ;_; And then after that I tried this whole like military language theme because it's Merritt and being a soldier is his life, so I wanted that to be emulated in his sexual encounter. But I kinda feel like my language, tone, and subjects are a mess. >:-O Decent for how little I write, but not really satisfactory to me, personally. :-/ I was also really reaching to try to get in Merritt's head and figure out what his fantasy would be like, and I could be off the mark, but it kind of seems like he would want an authoritative figure to take the reigns in the bedroom (or briefing room) and be totally overcome by the whole situation. ;-* Also I personally had the desire to explore him thoroughly enjoying the experience, but I don't have enough info about his canon relationships (tho that recent chapter in Devoted is really satisfying until...well I'm not going to spoil it for anyone) so I cheated out on a dreamfic. But like a Pogo-induced sex dream just seemed like an appropriate fanfic to write for this fandom. But on the note of criticism, I don't mind receiving constructive criticism. In the event that I do write again, I would hope to improve. 
> 
> And more text here because I may be the teensiest bit obsessed with this comic, but I want to state here why I am obsessed. Pogo is 19 year old me. I mean minus the whole demon thing and living in future underground Chicago and being born male, but Merritt and Pogo are pretty much my roommate and me in college. ^_^ Oh my god, I relate to Pogo so hard (heh). It took me a while to understand why appreciating everyone in a sexual manner could be creepy and disrespectful, and I am so grateful that my college roommate is still friends with me now. Umm…and for the record I wrote the sex dream thinking more about Merritt than thinking literally about my friend getting screwed over a table by Samsid…omg i should stop writing… >.<
> 
> ...Buuuuuuttt anyway thanks for reading! I love DOTU and the community that surrounds it. You guys rock!


End file.
